


balance in nature

by strze_lec



Category: The Resident (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Panic Attack, Sorry guys, mentioning of KitDolph tho, more makeout then sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strze_lec/pseuds/strze_lec
Summary: “It’s absolutely inappropriate, Conrad Hawkins.”He turns around toward his wife with raised eyebrows and his signature smirk plastered to his lips. Damn bastard dares to be smug with himself about his plans, like they wouldn’t be at their friend’s birthday party, at their friends’ house, in their spare bedroom, just about to get filthy.Or so the text message he has just sent her promised.
Relationships: AJ Austin/Mina Okafor, Conrad Hawkins/Nicolette Nevin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	balance in nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NicHawkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicHawkins/gifts).



> Hey guys! You didn't expect me in a CoNic section, did you? Well, me neither.  
> Truth be told, this fic has been created during the last summer and since I needed to get some breathing room from writing _tease me, you are the one_ for my naughty Minator fans, I've decided to revisit this piece and after bringing in small changes, here I give it to you. It's my very first try on CoNic, but I've got to say, I really did have fun writing this. Nic and Conrad make such a realistic and at the same time lovely, sexy couple, I'm looking forward to working with them again. 
> 
> Before I'll send you away with a hearty farwell I'll share with you my personal achievement - my amazing beta read the text and said she doesn't have anything to correct! 
> 
> Now, have fun, lovebirds.

“It’s absolutely inappropriate, Conrad Hawkins.”

He turns around toward his wife with raised eyebrows and his signature smirk plastered to his lips. Damn bastard dares to be smug with himself about his plans, like they wouldn’t be at their friend’s birthday party, at their friends’ house, in their spare bedroom, just about to get filthy.

Or so the text message he has just sent her promised.

“Hey, it’s not like they’re angels either. Remember when they got _lost_ during our Christmas party? I’m pretty sure they were _unwrapping some gifts_ in the guest bathroom upstairs,” he moves his eyebrows suggestively, taking these three steps separating them to lay his hands on her hips.

 _Uuuuuh,_ _yes_ , Nic definitely does remember that. She was partially amused – after all, watching Mina and AJ struggling to keep their hands off each other during a party where they were supposed to pretend their relationship was still strictly professional in front of other coworkers was a rare fun. It was mostly a formality anyway, as Mina was finishing her residency not even a month later and hadn’t been working on a regular basis with Austin for much longer. Yet, he, ever a gentleman, insisted on carrying on the charade in case the word would get out to the wrong people who wouldn’t mind messing with their work records.

That’s why Nic is one hundred percent certain it was Mina who dragged AJ upstairs, probably seeing the haze state the partygoers found themselves in – after leaning too much on the warmth of the mulled wine – as a great cover. Good thinking, she has to give her that.

What doesn’t change the fact that the other part of Nicolette Nevin-Hawkins was simply grossed out by whatever fluids were shared in her house.

At least they had a decency to stick away from bedrooms – well, _the bedroom_ as only one of those rooms was furnitured with a bed at the time – which Nic cannot say about her and Conrad right now.

When he brings them closer, her arms automatically rise to his neck with a purpose to settle on his nape and one of her palms begins caressing the line of his hair. “So we’re getting even then?”

“To return the balance to nature,” he nods solemnly as if he had just said something impressively wise, but keeps the grin on, ruining the solemnity altogether.

The only thing Nic can do is close her eyes and shake her head, her forehead slightly dipping forward. It’s not a real reprimand, her smile is stretched wide and she can feel laughter tickling the back of her throat.

Understanding the gesture as an agreement, Conrad presses his forehead to hers and when he speaks up, his voice is lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “Bonus point – the room doesn’t have a lock.”

When she looks at him again, he seems even more self-satisfied than a minute before.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Anyone can walk on us!” she protests, moving her head back and shooting a brief glance at the door.

“Nobody _will_ if we’re _quick enough_ ,” he efficiently brings their hips back together by lowering his hands to her bottom curves and tugging the covered flesh forward.

They got to the birthday party from different routes, not seeing one another since the early morning – though even then he got only a sleepy kiss goodbye from his barely awake wife – and he’s been eager to place his palms right there the moment he has seen her walking inside the living area of Austin’s house wearing these _insanely_ well-fitted jeans. Nic likes practicality, so he wouldn’t dare to doubt they were foremost comfortable, but his mind was fixed on the way they hugged her legs throughout the whole evening.

The sight was making his body re-live the feeling of having them naked and wrapped around his waist.

“Besides, you didn’t have such concerns when we were on the beach last summer…” he trails off, venturing his mouth to leave kisses upon her jawline.

“It was the middle of the night and nobody was there,” Nic reminds him, still not totally leaning in, but not stopping him either. She wants to let go, she really does – her playful streak was kept caged for too long – but with her promotion to the Nursing Supervisor title three weeks ago and current shifts in Chastain’s power structure keeping her on her toes, she finds it hard to allow herself to behave frisky. “Especially not anyone from work.”

“I swear I can lie our asses out of trouble if we will come face to face with Kit and Bell sneaking out to do what we’re going to be doing,” he mutters straight into her ear, leaving nips here and there along its curve.

His words make her cringe a bit. “It actually grosses me out more than Mina and AJ getting dirty in our bathroom.”

“Yeah, so forget about it and enjoy the ride,” Conrad offers, then brings his mouth to hers as he walks her two steps behind to press her to the wooden surface of the door. Fortunately they open to the inside, so if someone will try to do just that, they’ll come across a heavy obstacle.

Nic’s eyelids lower again and her lips part under his demand, familiar with the angle he’s chosen and how their bodies fit together. She reciprocates the kiss while running her palm through his dark blond strands, her nails scraping his scalp. Her other hand rests on his cheek – petting the stubble here, enjoying the rough sensation.

He has always been a good kisser. And he became even better, once he had learned all the little tricks drawing a high-pitched breath from her throat, like kissing her hard and sucking in her upper lip finished by leaving tiny, chaste kisses on the wound. The act makes a mix of feelings rush through her body, starting in lust to end on warm knowledge of being cherished, only to repeat itself when he starts working on the other side of her mouth. He knows exactly how to make her knees wobbly.

And just as well he knows when she isn’t properly melting into his doings.

“You’re tense,” he points out, meeting her questioning gaze after he separated their lips.

Nic opens up her mouth to disagree, but focus he watches her with makes her close them and rethink her answer. “I know,” she looks down. “I’ve been stressed out lately without a reason.”

His forehead creases. “Your anxiety attacks are back?”

There’s no judgement in his voice, simply concern.

Nic sighs heavily. She wants to say she’s alright and all she needs it’s a hot bath and a glass of wine. She has already had two tonight and honestly, they didn’t make her feel more at ease at all. Quite the opposite.

Her thumb is moving back and forth on his cheek like she’s been trying to sooth him, but it’s more for her own security. “Not fully, but…” she sighs again and places her chin on his shoulder, not changing their position. Even despite the fact how long they’ve been together, she still needs to remind herself not to brush his worries away and deal with everything on her own. She trusts him with her life, but _not running away_ still seems so difficult sometimes.

The hand carrying the wedding band moves to her back to wrap her in an embrace and he gives her time to sort out her thoughts. The sexual tension in the room lessens, though he doesn’t mind – her comfort is more important.

“Since I’ve accepted the promotion,” he hears from her after a moment and she’s speaking in a hushed, unsure tone making his senses prick in attention, “I’ve been having this… constant anxiety somewhere in the back of my head. If I’ve sent all the scans for HR as I should, if I followed the procedures while calling other hospitals, if I didn’t lose any papers for funding projects, if I’ve passed all the information to other departments…”

She trials off as she needs to take another breath to order her concerns.

“I’ve been checking myself three times before I’ll send anything and it’s making me super slow and even that doesn’t stop me from wondering if I did everything right, then going back to confirm it, though _I know_ everything’s as it should be,” Nic admits, her stare set on the floor, but she doesn’t notice it. “I had an argument with the Head of Accounting today, claiming me and my three nurses are extorting money from Chastain, because their calculations differed from mine on at least five hundred dollars per person, only for them to call me three hours later after hanging up on me, that they find out they had a bug in their files.”

The words _I had a panic attack in the meantime_ she didn’t have to voice, her hiding her face in the crook of his neck speaking loud enough.

“Why didn’t you told me before, I’d–”

“No, you wouldn’t. I need to fight my battles on my own.”

Conrad’s line of thought stops in its tracks and he exhales, fighting the protective streak inside him. She’s right. They’ve had this conversation over and over again throughout the years and he hoped he already taught his inner warrior to be her sidekick, not her savior.

Apparently a little reminder is in order once in a while.

If he was ever sure of anything in his life, it would be two things. First – that he loves Nic more than he can explain, express in any form even if he tried every minute of every day left for him on earth and second – that his wife is an extraordinary person, capable of handling any obstacles put in her path completely on her own, because the truth is – Nic doesn’t _need him_ by her side. Yet, she chooses to be with him, because she _wants to._

So as much as his intentions might be genuine, it’s not his place to draw a sword. After all, she’s a heroine of her own kind and he would never insult her competences to do her job.

Though it doesn’t mean he will suddenly stop worrying for her, that’s too much to ask of a man.

He shifts their stance so they’re not leaning on the door anymore and starts massaging her back through the thin, slightly sparkling, deep navy blouse she has on. The motion is supposed to relax both of them. “How many times has it happened?”

“What?” she questions, slightly perplexed.

“How many times did you have an anxiety attack?” his voice becomes gentler.

She’s quiet until, “Twice... Three times.”

Some may say it’s not that bad. She’s new to the job, it’s understandable she’s feeling insecure in her new position. Yet the thing is – in _their_ profession, in the health profession there’s no time for reluctance or re-checking. They have to make split-second medical decisions, sometimes relaying patients’ lives solely to them. Nic might be having problems with the office side of job now, but the worsening of her anxiety may create danger not only for her, but also for those under her care. Not to mention, he hates the idea of his wife hurting in any way, by any reason.

“Is there something I can do?”

“I don’t know,” she pauses, gathering the courage to admit to him – _and herself_ – that she’s been ignoring the real issue. “I just don’t want to fuck something up _so badly._ ”

“Hey, you’re not going to do worse than me,” he comments to lift her spirits, “getting fired on the day of the promotion. You’ve already done three weeks better than me.”

It doesn’t work.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. Though he guesses, the truth she needs to face is actually that… “You know it’s statistically impossible not to fuck up sometime. We’re humans, we always do. It’s the damage control that matters.”

“Conrad, that’s not hel–”

“No, hear me out,” he leans back, bringing his index finger under her chin, making her look him in the eyes. His gaze is resolute.

“You’re an amazing nurse, Nic. Your patients adore you. Your nurses listen to you and follow you. Doctors respect you and know not to get in your way. You’re more than worth the position you hold now. And yes – you will make mistakes,” he shrugs with one arm, though his eyes don’t leave hers even for a moment. 

“As much as you were making some mistakes when you started practicing. But I also know you’re focused and clever, so whatever you might fuck up, you’ll also find the way to make up for,” he smiles at her, familiar wrinkles forming under his eyes. “Not that you’re going to need it, but if you decide you do – I’m always here for you. We can plan something to help you cope with the responsibilities or I don’t know, I can start picking up my socks for some time.”

This time the joke reaches its goal and confusion on her face blooms into a snort and a small smile.

“Also, I know how to get rid of a body, so if you need that asshole from accounting gone, just say nothing,” he cracks another quip.

“Conrad!” she exclaims, playfully smacking him in the back of his head where she’s been having her hand placed. Her heart feels lighter now, more assured.

Of course, his speech doesn’t solve all her problems, she still needs to work through what’s been causing her anxiety, yet now it seems as a far more manageable task. She’s always seen herself as a perfectionist, setting the bar so high there isn’t any space left for natural shortcomings. It’s a double-edged sword, really – what made her work record adequate for such an honorable position, is also what makes her insecure about her work progress and efficiency.

But she’s going to get better. _She will._

And he’s right – she’s not alone. She doesn’t need to act like she is.

“Thank you,” she puts her forehead against his. “I’ll consider the possibility of cutting myself some slack,” she adds sort of jokingly, not wanting to dwell into the topic further. She’ll rethink it in her own time and get back to him once she’s ready.

Instead of reciprocating the motion, he leaves a kiss on her forehead, then moves his hand to her bottom again and presses her back into the door. “Happy to serve,” he mutters already halfway down to her lips.

Nic closes the remaining gap on her own, less tensed than before and definitely more eager. Both of her palms are hugging his cheeks now and it’s her turn to guide the kiss. Conrad doesn’t seem to mind though, his body letting no air particles to slide between them and as her kiss grows bolder, her tongue dancing with his, he releases a low murmur – not quite a moan, yet close – and wraps one of her legs around his waist with urgency.

Suddenly her hands become itchy – for skin, for _him_ – and she shoves them under his shirt, but soon enough finds out the buttoned up piece he wears doesn’t give her much room for exploring. Deciding against ripping off the shirt (she would have to sew the buttons up, wouldn’t she?), with remnants of her patience she pushes the tiny ovals through the holes, her hands descending lower and lower to his belt buckle– and a fleeting memory of the sound it makes when dropping to the floor makes a shiver run through her spine.

In return Conrad breaks the kiss, roaming his lips to Nic’s neck with an intent to leave hungry nips on the creamy skin. Her breath quickens, but he doesn’t hit the jackpot until he ventures to her weak spot, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh. This open provocation draws an involutionary moan from her throat and his ego probably doubles in size when she needs to bite down on her lip to stop herself from crying out too loud.

He moves to the other side of her neck and his stubble scratches her with sensuality she didn’t expect, making her leg tighten around his waist in order to seek some friction. Nic gets exponentially more irritated with undressing him with every failed try to unclasp the button and if that wouldn’t be enough, her arms move close to her breasts and the rushed, rough touches makes her skin ache for his palms even more.

 _Screw this shirt_ , she thinks right before she finally pops the last button free, helps him shrug the shirt to the floor. Next is her blouse that happily – needed only to be pulled over her head. Before she realizes what is happening, Conrad is tugging one of her breasts free, not caring about the bra at all. His mouth is on her the instant later, enveloping the nipple inside, his tongue swirling around the tight bud. Her head falls back, resting on the wooden surface. His free hand takes care of pleasuring the other curve, thumb circling the peak in the same rhythm his lips does.

Nic’s eyes flutter closed. He was right about the whole encounter – nature definitely needs the balance.

Her left palm clutches to the messed up strands, right one touches as much of bare skin as she can in her current position. She hears _his_ , _hers_ accelerated breathing filling the room. It’s almost like she’s a teenager again, sneaking around to make out with her boyfriend. The rush of adrenaline is electrifying and the frantic way their hips are colliding is just _a-ma-zing_.

She feels the gentlest caress of teeth and then he _sucks_ the nipple.

She manages only to take a shuddered inhale that undeniably would be turning into a moan if not for the _banging_ on the door.

“Hey lovebirds, you in there?”

Truth be told, it’s not the first time Nic hates Mina and her timing.

Conrad and Nic both halt, their breaths stuck in their throats as they pretend they’re not, indeed, there. Their gazes lock like kids caught on misbehavior. Conrad slowly separates his mouth from her plump breast trying not to make the _pop_ sound.

“I was just being nice, I know you’re there. Time for fooling around is over, we’ll be cutting the cake in a minute and won’t start without your asses dragged down to the garden,” Mina pauses, amusement loud and clear in her voice. “Thank the karma.”

With that last comment, she apparently turns around and they hear her steps on the stairs.

Somewhere around one look and the other, silly smiles plastered on their faces turn into barely contained chuckles, then full chuckles and eventually laughs. Nic starts to readjust her bosom back into the bra with Conrad’s hands still on her hips.

“We’ve gotten busted.”

“So, maybe there’s balance in nature after all.”


End file.
